“Shut the fuck up, bruh. I’ll mash you up!”
Alfie glared through the bars at Monty. “What you lying for, bruh? We all seen you drink bare amounts.”
John nodded and so did Maggie. Apparently this was a well-known secret. Leo, too, seemed as if he knew. “Who cares, Monty? If you like a drink, fair play.”
Monty marched out of the room and back into the tunnel. “It ain’t even like that, man. Me and a few lads from mosque might like a cheeky beer now and then, but it’s serious fucking business. My old man finds out and he’ll drown me in the canal. No one can ever find out, you get me?”
Leo held his hands up in a peaceful gesture. “Your life, Monty. I won’t say a word to anyone.”
Monty turned his glare on Cheryl. It was a hard, unfriendly look, and caused her to hold her hands up in surrender as well. “Who the heck am I going to tell, Monty? I barely know you.”
He seemed to relax. “I’m a good Muslim, yeah? I just think some of the rules are…”
“Bullshit?” Leo suggested.
“Don’t be saying shit about my faith, bruh.”
“Ha! Make your mind up, dude. Look, chill out, we can all believe what we want to believe. Long as we’re all good to one another, right?”
Monty nodded, although he glared at Leo a moment longer before finally looking away. “Nuff said about it, yeah?”
“Okay,” said Cheryl, attempting to get things back on track. She hadn’t forgotten about the prize money — or the time limit. “So, Monty, I know it’s a touchy subject, but for the purposes of this game, can you pick up the beer, please?”
Monty retrieved the pint and brought it out. He appeared less angry now and more apprehensive, but rather than keep his feelings to himself, he shared them. “I trust all of you, yeah, but how did the jokers running this thing find out? You been spilling shit about us all, John?”
John sipped the single malt and sighed. “I said nothing to no one. I honestly don’t know how they found out what we like to drink, but you can ask them about it once we get out of here. I shall be.”
“This is getting personal,” said Alfie after taking a long swig of his cider. “It ain’t just a game, they’re basing the puzzles on our lives. That’s well iffy.”
“It’s in bad taste, I agree,” said Happy, “but they probably didn’t realise they would be prodding at open wounds. Most people aren’t embarrassed by their age or what they drink.”
“Right,” said Leo. “I have nothing to hide. They can try to get inside my head all they want.”
“I agree with Happy,” said Maggie, arms folded and mouth pursed. “How could the event organiser know that John would lie about his age?”
“Or that Monty don’t want people to know he drinks,” added Alfie.
The comments aggravated both men, so Happy put a hand up to prevent further comments. “Cheryl has this puzzle in the bag, so let’s get back to her theory. We each have the right drink, so what next?”
“The letters,” she said, having already thought through the next step. “Everyone has a letter on their glass, right?”
Everyone checked and discovered it to be true.
Alfie shrugged. “I have a ‘G.’ What does that stand for?”
Leo scratched a thumbnail over the letter on his vodka glass. “I have a ‘U.’ Reckon we have to spell out a word?”
John examined the letter on his glass. “That must be it. What order should we be in?”
“By age,” said Cheryl. “Take your tipple, youngest first. Everyone needs to stand in a line, youngest to oldest.” Everyone shuffled around until they had a line starting with Alfie and ending with Happy. “Great! Now read out your letters in order.”
Alfie started. “G.”
Leo. “U.”
Monty. “I.”
Maggie. “L.”
John. “T.”
Happy read out the letter on his gin and tonic. “Y.”
Cheryl flicked her tongue back and forth while she put the letters together in her head. “G-U-I-L-T-Y. The letters spell guilty.”
Leo stopped smiling. “Well, that’s unsettling. What does it mean?”
Cheryl suddenly wished she had a drink in her hand. “I guess we’ll find out.”
“It’s just a game,” said Monty. “They’re messing with us.”
Cheryl had been chewing her lip but stopped now to speak. “I’m a little freaked out.”
“I second that,” said Maggie. She had taken her wooly hat off now and her dark hair fell in a ponytail over her shoulder. “All this drama is making me ill. I want to go to the hotel.”
Happy told everyone to calm down. “Monty’s right,” he said. “This is all part of the experience. Being made to feel uncomfortable is what we expected, correct? People today demand shock value, they want to be frightened out of their skin, and the only way entertainment companies can get ahead is to push the envelope. We’re getting our money’s worth, that’s all. I, for one, am having fun.”
“You sound so certain,” said Cheryl, wanting to be comforted by his words but not quite there yet. “You really think this is all okay?”
“Better to look on the bright side until left with no other choice, don’t you agree? We came here to solve puzzles and, so far, I believe we’ve been doing that rather well. You most of all, Cheryl. You’ve impressed us all.”
“It’s true,” said John, nodding earnestly.
Leo gave Cheryl a pat on the arm. “You’ve solved every puzzle so far. Now we have to find out what to do with the word guilty, so come on, genius, what’s next?”
Suddenly everyone was looking at her, and she found it ironic that she had gained her colleague’s respect through a game rather than her work. “Maybe it’ll allow us to open another room,” she said, looking up the tunnel at the numerous barred gates. It was starting to resemble a prison landing and the subtle movements of the hanging lightbulbs made shadows twitch and flinch on the walls.
“We should check the locks,” said Alfie. “See if any of them have opened.”
“Good plan,” said John. “Get to work.”
One by one, they checked the other padlocks on the gates, and after a moment’s searching Happy called out. “I think I have something here.”
Cheryl was still feeling anxious, so she took off towards him like a firework, eager to begin a new puzzle. It kept her mind occupied.
“Letters,” Happy explained once she reached him. “This padlock has six rollers, but there are letters instead of numbers. Perhaps we can spell out the word that was written on our glasses.”
John barged his way to the front. “What are you waiting for then? Try the combination.”
Happy nodded. His hands were calloused and his fingers gnarled, but he thumbed at the rollers gamely. Letter by letter, he spelled out the word GUILTY.
The padlock popped open with an audible clack.
“We’re getting pretty good at this,” said Leo, pressing up against Cheryl’s hip. Was he touching her on purpose? “Maybe we’re not all going to die down here after all.”